Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I swear I could feel his gaze drifting over my bare legs, the peekaboo effect of my shirt with my belly, and the way my breasts were straining against the material, my nipples pebbled underneath, thanks to the chill in the room.
He didn’t try anything, though.
And I couldn’t tell you why I was so disappointed about that fact as his fingers lightly brushed some hair out of my face.
“Time to get up,” he said, voice soft.
It was then I remembered that I only had a few minutes to get up and get to work, so the magic of the moment fell completely away, leaving me rushing around to do a quick body wash, get dressed, and make my way out, leaving Samson with Atlas, since it would only be a few hours.
In my hand was a little brown baggie full of snacks and a sandwich Atlas had actually prepped for me.
And I think I fell a little bit in love with him right then and there.
When I got home that evening, Atlas was showered, changed, had done some cleaning, and ordered dinner.
Which we ate on the couch, watching one of his favorite movies.
It was just so… domestic.
Comfortable.
Like it was before the whole distance thing, but better. Because there were no secrets between us anymore.
I ended up, just like the last time, falling asleep right there beside him, eventually curling off to the other side, my legs finding their way up and onto his lap.
I couldn’t say how much later it was, but I woke up to the feel of his fingers gently massaging my foot, thumb pressing in at my perpetually achy arch.
I hadn’t been prepared for the way desire sparked through my system at the chaste touch. It was like there was a little, shivery thread of desire from my foot right to my core.
I didn’t move.
I didn’t even open my eyes.
I just lay there still, not wanting to do anything that would stop him as his fingers continued to work magic on my one foot, before switching to the other.
His fingers drifted up to my ankles, just a soft touch that hit a tickle spot, making my body jerk as my eyes shot open.
“Feet are fine, but the ankles, those get you,” he said, shooting me a soft smile as his fingers teased up my legs, over my calves, finding no other spots until he reached the underside of my knee, making my leg kick out, my foot slamming into the arm of the couch.
“Anywhere else?” he asked, amused by finding little hot spots like that, but not exploiting them, not tickling and teasing as I squirmed and begged for him to stop.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, taking a deep breath as his fingers moved up over my knees.
Sure, I’d been with Joss for years.
But he never seemed interested in actually exploring my body. To him, there were only three interesting parts of the female anatomy, and he used them to his pleasure, not to try to learn about mine.
As silly as it was, given I was far from a virgin, this felt new and exciting as Atlas’s fingers drifted up over my thigh, his fingers moving in a side-to-side motion that made me wish I hadn’t slipped on my thick sweatpants, and had opted for the thin, silky ones. Or none at all.
Without any thought at all, one of my legs fell open, inviting a more intimate touch, and I felt Atlas run his fingertips up the inner side of my thigh, making that sensation in my core intensify.
But just as I was sure his fingers would move between, would touch me where I was aching for it, he shifted away, teasing over the waistband of my pants, then up my belly until he couldn’t reach anymore. Stopping a disappointing inch from the underside of my bra.
When I thought the sweet exploration might just end like that, though, Atlas’s fingers slid back down my belly toward my pants, but this time, he hooked the material. And, gaze on mine, watching for anything that didn’t resemble whole-hearted consent, he started to draw them down.
Anticipation sizzled across my nerve endings.
And there was the slightest twinge of uncertainty, of discomfort at something new, that I quickly squashed down, the other part of me too turned on and intrigued to deny myself this because of some frazzled nerves.
My feet pressed into the arm of the couch, allowing me to bridge upward a few inches, so he could draw the pants down over my ass, before continuing to slide them down my thighs, legs, and off of each ankle.
Finished, he looked back at me, eyes heated, as his fingers once again started at my ankles and moved upward, but this time avoiding the places he knew tickled. Intent, it seemed, on creating an entirely different sensation in my body.